The Finish Line
by Hannah Tennant-Cumberbatch
Summary: New recruit Hannah Fitzpatrick is thrown in at the deep end when scary Russian billionaire, Evgeny Vronsky, arrives in London - who only travels with the intention to kill, not caring about the consequences. A short novella based between series five and series six: Adam, Ros, Zaf, Jo and Malcolm all appear.
1. Chapter 1

_**a/n: Just a little thing wrote in summer boredom. Fun to write and enough to fill the spooks void in my heart. Hope you enjoy.**_

 **CHAPTER ONE**

Crisis had been averted, yet again. Thanks to the efforts of Section D and their quick actions, another Al-Qaeda bomb plot had gladly failed and the hundreds who could have died were still roaming the streets, living another day. Everyone knew that the quiet wouldn't last long, however, but it was pleasant while it lasted.

"The home secretary, again, iterates his gratitude," Harry Pearce announced to his team, sat on either side of the table in the meeting room. "If this bomb had detonated, it would have had disastrous consequences. You did well today."

Section D – a team made up of section chief Adam Carter and his colleagues Ros Myers, Jo Portman, Malcolm Wynn-Jones and Zafar Younis – all accepted the praise graciously. It wasn't often that Harry said _well done,_ but they really did deserve it this time. It had been a none-stop forty-eight hours in the race to apprehend the bombers but somehow they'd all managed to succeed.

Harry paused. The team looked exhausted. He highly doubted that any of them had slept, or even eaten, much in the last two days. It was time they left the Grid behind and back to their own beds before another full-on day tomorrow. "Go home. All of you. Back here bright and early tomorrow morning."

Jo in particular looked relieved to hear those words – her long blonde hair was straggly and well in need of a wash – and she'd been fantasising about a hot bath for at least the last five or so hours. Malcolm, as always, would claim that he needed to check the computer terminals before traipsing out way after everyone else had left. Zaf would say a quick goodnight and head off with purpose, immediately lost in the darkness. Adam and Ros would leave separately and join again in a cab five minutes away, thinking nobody would notice his hand in the small of her back and the way he smiled at her.

The group began to tuck their chairs in and leave before Harry interrupted with more information. "And before you all leave, remember we'll be having a new recruit with us from tomorrow. Hannah Fitzpatrick. Don't forget to make her feel welcome."

Harry's glance seemed to linger on Ros longer than the rest of the team. She rolled her eyes rather pointedly in his direction. "When have I been anything other than welcoming, Harry?"

"All I'm saying, don't want to scare her off before she's properly started," Harry stated, "She sailed through training with flying colours and has a first class degree from Cambridge. Should be an asset to our team."

"That's all well and good," Adam chipped in, "But if she's got no field experience I doubt she'll be that useful."

"I've only heard good reports from her placement at Section K," Harry reminded him that his recruitment had its reasons, "So we'll all give her a chance. Clear?"

This, of course, was no problem for Malcolm, Jo and Zaf; it was only Adam and Ros who had their doubts. The pair nodded anyway – they had leeway with Harry because of the immense trust they had between each other, but they didn't push it.

"Good," Harry said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

-x-

Adam and Ros's tendency to use MI5 safe houses for their late-night rendezvous was most definitely not allowed, Ros had no doubt about that. But there were hundreds across London and she supposed they wouldn't miss this one; the one a half-hour tube journey from Thames House, a cosy flat on the top floor of one of the inconspicuous townhouses lining the street. They didn't like using Adam's flat because they'd have to talk about Wes and they didn't like using hers because they'd have to talk about how it looked like no-one had ever lived there. The safe house was like neutral ground. The walls held no memories other than the ones they shared, the ones that required no explaining.

"What do you think?" Adam asked, falling onto the sofa, "About getting a new recruit?"

Ros was pacing the living room wearing only a dressing gown. Adam couldn't believe she could possibly tease him like that – it was just _rude._ She paused when he asked the question. Adam could hear the beat of the tap running in the bath in the background.

"Not sure," Ros murmured. She knotted back her shoulder-length blonde hair with a hair tie.

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Not sure?"

"Well," Ros continued, "I'm not sure I want a cold-eyed, uptight, privately-educated postgrad cramping our style."

Adam couldn't help but laugh at that. "Another one of us, you mean?"

"Exactly," Ros smiled, bemused, "Another one of us."

Ros wandered out of the living room again. She threw a bag of toiletries on the bathroom floor, then quickly stalked back to sit next to Adam on the sofa. He didn't mind when she laid her legs across his knees. He'd missed the contact.

"Harry's never been wrong before," Adam mused, "I think I trust his judgement when it comes to recruitment."

"It's like what you said before though, in the meeting room. If she's got no field skills, she's no use to us. That's the problem with these twenty-one year old fast-tracked kids. They lack the experience."

"You have to get the experience from somewhere," Adam reasoned and Ros rolled her eyes immediately in ricochet. Typical him, to say that. He always wants to give the new ones a chance, whilst she'd happily feed them to the wolves. That was what her first year at MI6 was like.

"Fine, but I think I'll leave the welcoming party to Jo," Ros said, "She's the compassionate one."

"You mean she's the newest one, and therefore anyone newer than her is her responsibility."

Ros merely shrugged, attempting to look like that wasn't the exact response formulated in her head. "Possibly."

"You're a cruel woman," Adam teased, but the smile on his face was enough of a giveaway to realise he didn't mean that. He leaned over, his hand cupping her jawline, and pressed a kiss on her smiling lips.

This, what they'd found between each other, was one of the only good things about nearly dying. Adam had quickly realised that if Ros Myers' face was the last one he saw, he wouldn't be too bothered about it. It was enough to form their complicated relationship on and so far, they hadn't done too badly. They'd found solace in each other.

"My bath will be ready," Ros murmured against his lips, "Join me?"

"As if I could say no to that," Adam laughed, kissing her once more for good measure, before letting her drag him by the hand to the bathroom.

-x-

The steam of the bathroom instantly calmed Jo's nerves as she towelled her hair dry. She'd had so much adrenaline pumping through her the last few days – the only way she could have survived – that it was nice just to let it all go for a few hours. No bomb threats, no assassinations, no cyber terrorism. Just her, a glass of wine, a _Game of Thrones_ boxset and eventually, bed. She didn't get a whole lot of time to herself now. MI5 had completely taken over every aspect of her life: she couldn't really see her friends, meet guys in bars, casually let people into her flat anymore. Everything and everyone had to be vetted and vetted again to be let anywhere near her in a social capacity. That was the nature of the security services. She couldn't trust anyone, not now.

And she accepted that. It was difficult at first, but now it was just natural. She loved her new life and making a difference, no matter how hard it was. She wouldn't ever change it.

Jo threw the towel on the radiator and padded into the living room. This two-bed flat was a recent introduction to her life. Sharing with Zaf was fine, at first, but working so close with one another and then going home with each other was a little too hard to handle. They'd shared one misplaced kiss after a particularly challenging op and decided that it was best if they lived separately in order to retain their working relationship. It was a good decision and one neither of them regretted. Harry had offered her this flat to her on the cheap because it was an ex-safe house, and she'd gladly accepted the rent agreements and moved in quickly after the proposition. Sometimes she missed the company, especially after days where she honestly felt her life hanging in the balance and everything had the potential to collapse on top of her. Most of the time, however, it was nice to have freedom from people for a while.

She was about to flick the TV on when her phone buzzed loudly against the granite of the kitchen island. She was tempted to leave it, but past experience deterred her from it – she'd once accidentally ignored a red flash which had disastrous consequences. Despite being sleep-deprived, she wasn't going to ignore one again.

To Jo's surprise, it was Harry who had texted her. But it wasn't about an emergency operation.

 _Our new recruit has nowhere to stay. Knew you had a spare room. Expect her in less than twenty minutes – HP_

Oh. So that's why she was given the flat so cheap. In case Harry had any visitors he needed to quickly place somewhere and he knew that she wouldn't argue about it. Jo felt a little annoyed that her new home and her good nature had been taken advantage of because seriously, twenty minutes? Only twenty minutes before someone she'd never met was supposed to start living with her? Then again, it wasn't Hannah's fault. Jo had to leave her flatmate and find somewhere new to live moments after she officially joined the service, and they didn't seem to understand how long it took (or how expensive it was) to find a house in London.

"Twenty minutes," Jo murmured to herself, "Twenty minutes."

In an effort to make the flat somewhat more presentable, she tidied up the trashy magazines she absent-mindedly read during time off and dumped them in the recycling box. Any dirty cutlery she shoved in the mostly empty dish washer. A quick glance in the fridge showed she had nothing in apart from cheese that had been there for a solid three weeks and half a carton of milk. The cupboards didn't throw up anything else more interesting: a jar of olives and a half-eaten box of shredded wheat. She didn't eat at home much. Coffee was breakfast, sneaking out for a sandwich was lunch (if she had the time) and she was often too tired to cook anything for tea. Sometimes her and Zaf would share a pizza or eat something at the pub on the way back from Thames House and when she was feeling particularly adventurous, she'd grab a readymade salad and perhaps some chicken breasts from Tesco she could throw in a pan with minimal effort. She hoped Hannah wasn't expecting a feast on her first night in.

The spare bedroom, on the other hand, was somewhere Jo rarely ventured in. She'd never had the luxury of one before. It contained a bed, wardrobe, chest and bedside cabinet but not a lot else; she had no drunken friends she could throw on the mattress after a heavy night out and no family members she had to put up for a week. The only items that were actually hers in there were piles of clothes she was considering donating to a charity shop but hadn't got round to it yet. She gathered them up, threw them on the floor of her own bedroom, before covering the bare mattress with a sheet and duvet she'd tidied away for no other reason than having no use for them.

At that moment, the buzzer to the front door rand. Jo abandoned her last-ditch attempt at tidying and bound to the front door. She warily picked up the phone, unsure of what to expect.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jo, it's Hannah," a friendly, distinctly southern voice replied, "Harry Pearce said you'd be expecting me?"

"Yeah, of course!" Jo answered, "Come on up, come on up."

Jo held the door open and barely a minute later, a young woman – a few years younger than Jo – could be heard traipsing up the stairs. Hannah had shoulder-length chestnut brown hair and a fringe swept across her forehead, and a smile that instantly warmed Jo the moment they caught eyes. Immediately, Jo couldn't believe how she'd felt reluctant letting her stay originally. Maybe it was the service breaking through her, making her hesitant to trust anybody.

Hannah had a huge rucksack on her back and a cardboard box in her grip, but nothing else. She was obviously a much lighter packer than Jo.

"Hi!" Hannah greeted, once she'd finally reached the top of the stairs. "Jo, right?"

"That's me," Jo smiled in return. Hannah dropped the box on the floor in order to shake her hand. "Come on in. The bedroom is all yours."

Hannah visibly sighed with relief. "Oh my god, I can't thank you enough! Harry Pearce phoned me a couple of hours ago and told me I couldn't stay in my old flat anymore. I shared with a mate from six – can't be too careful, apparently, even though we're supposed to be on the same side."

"Sometimes it isn't that simple," Jo said wistfully, reminiscing about many an operation where the good guys turned out to be the bad guys. MI6 were usually okay – bit arrogant, maybe, but okay. However, like Harry had said, you couldn't be too careful with the neighbouring service.

"I can imagine," Hannah said, traipsing into the flat. It was bigger than she imagined; much bigger than the flat she'd shared last time. "Still, I was panicking about finding a place at such short notice, and Harry Pearce said something about a vetting process every potential landlord has to go through. It would've been impossible for me to find a place overnight and I don't have any family in central London, so thank you."

"It's not a problem," Jo smiled. Zaf had done the same for her when she joined the service, and she was eternally grateful for his kindness.

"I can assure you, I won't be here for very long," Hannah iterated, "I'll try and get another room sorted and be out of your hair as quick as I can. It's just… London, isn't it? I mean, Cambridge flats were pricey, but they weren't _London_ pricey, and now I'm going to have to do it on my own…"

"Please, don't worry about it," Jo interrupted, Hannah visibly relaxing thanks to the reassurance. She closed the door, encouraging her new flatmate further into the flat. "I've been in your position. The only reason I got a look-in on this flat in the first place was because it was an ex safe-house Harry was offering me cheap. Let's just see how it goes, and… Stay here as long as you like."

Yeah. This was the _exact_ reason why Harry thought to offer Jo this flat.

"You're a saint," Hannah grinned, looking more than marginally awake than Jo felt. Harry had mentioned her being on a placement at Section K, which wasn't as full-on as Section D – Hannah was going to get a bit of a shock once she started working round counter-terrorism's timetable. But Jo had no doubts that they'd both get on. Similar age, lifestyle, employment… She hadn't met anyone like that in MI5 and she'd missed having girlfriends and someone who understood her.

Jo smirked. "You can repay me by getting me up in the morning. Alarm clocks don't work very well for me."

"Good thing I'm a morning person then," Hannah said cheerily, and Jo doesn't doubt it for a second. She seemed the type to roll out of bed at six am with no qualms. Jo, on the other hand, would happily lie in until way past midday; a habit she's learnt to strictly control.

Jo did a quick tour of the flat and pointed out the bedroom, bathroom and kitchen, apologising about the lack of food. Hannah didn't seem to mind: she appeared to mentally note things that were absent and not complain about it.

"Sorry, I'm being a terrible host," Jo apologised, "But do you mind if I head off to bed? I haven't slept in a solid thirty-six hours, early start and all that…"

"Course I don't mind. You should've told me and I wouldn't've blathered on," said Hannah with a laugh, "I'll see you in the morning. And thanks, again. For putting me up."

After that Hannah immediately scurried off, determined to organise her room and install a notion of formality in her new environment. Jo smiled bemusedly as she heard her muttering to herself. She was going to like Hannah, she decided, and so was Zaf, Malcolm and Adam – it was only Ros she was unsure about. Hannah's upbeat personality was definitely going to clash with Ros, seeing as she was the epitome of the Ice Queen trope. Maybe she would win her round, eventually. On that thought, Jo traipsed through to her own room with the main intention of falling straight to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_**a/n: thank you for the lovely reviews! just to say - the plot is a bit rubbish, as I am not an expert in MI5 stuff, and probably have taken quite a few liberties with technological terminology and the like. Hope you enjoy, and don't hesitate to message me with any questions.**_

 **CHAPTER TWO**

The next morning, Jo was awoken by the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen and early spring sunshine bleaching through the curtains. For a moment she was confused and disorientated, but the events of last night slowly but surely came flooding back to her; she wasn't in the flat alone anymore. Jo stretched out her neck to glance at the clock by her bed, the time reading 6:45am, just fifteen minutes before her alarm was due to go off. She debated with the idea of sneaking another fifteen minutes of rest in but she'd only feel groggier later on. Instead, she decided to take a leaf out of her new flatmate's book and challenge whatever today had ready for her.

Hannah was already fully dressed in a patterned blouse and plain black trousers, her fringe plaited across her forehead. She greeted Jo with a cheerful smile, one not too dissimilar from last night, and gestured to a piping hot mug on the counter.

"Morning," Hannah hummed, "I made you coffee. I didn't know if you liked milk, or…"

"Just black is fine," Jo replied graciously, "Thank you."

A quick glance around the kitchen showed that Hannah had been busy indeed. Where there were once empty cupboards and shelves Hannah had stocked up with long-life foods and a few fresh fruits and vegetables. When Hannah hopped over to the fridge in search of milk Jo spotted eggs, more milk, as well as a fresh tub of butter. When did Hannah have the time to do that?

Hannah noticed her staring and her cheeks flushed a bright pink. "Oh – I just decided to get a few bits in this morning, I passed the Tesco on the route back from my run…"

"You've been on a _run?_ " Jo gaped, in shock, "Already? It's not even 7am!"

Hannah shrugged her shoulders. "Routine. Harry Pearce warned me that I'd probably end up breaking them, but I thought it was best to keep it up if I had the chance."

"Don't worry. You do enough running in this job. Seriously, I've lost at least two stone since I joined."

"Yeah, that's partly why I started running in the first place," Hannah responded. She leant against the kitchen cabinet, crossing her legs. "I've always wanted to work in counter-terrorism and I thought being at my peak would help me get in. My handler over at K recommended me to Harry and thus, here I am. It's crazy."

It could be pretty crazy. Jo knew this better than anyone – if she hadn't been coincidentally put into contact with Adam a couple of years ago, there was no way she'd be in this job now. MI5 and Jo Portman had just been one huge, brilliant, accident.

Jo sipped her coffee. It was remarkably good, but she wasn't the type to get fussy over it. "What about counter-terrorism attracted you, then? It's not often a sought-after ambition."

Hannah pondered it for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know, really. I was kind of introduced to the idea at uni and was approached for training just before I graduated. One of my friends had an interview with six, the one I used to share a flat with. Then I thought, just go for it. And however much I enjoyed being over at K, I just knew I wanted to be in this team. Section D."

It was almost weird to Jo to hear about the formal application process. Jo was thrown into training courtesy of Adam and arrived at Section D barely even a month later fully trained. She'd taken the shortcut, whilst Hannah had clearly worked her arse off for her position in the team. She was going to be impressive, Jo knew it. Harry wouldn't have picked her up for no reason.

"I'm nervous about walking into Thames House," Hannah admitted, fiddling with the hem of her blouse, "K was based nearer Vauxhall, in a tiny shabby building. And when I say shabby, I mean shabby. The automatic door had to be wrenched open. I know I have no reason to be nervous, but still… I just can't get it out of my head."

Jo almost laughed at how absurd that sounded. Working in counter-terrorism and the thing Hannah was most scared of was walking into a posh building? Maybe that was the way she accepted and coped with it all. Sometimes the little things bug us most of all. "Honestly, don't worry about it. You'll be fine. Besides, you can walk in with me. Have a pal on your first day of big school."

Hannah giggled. "Okay. Thank you."

-x-

The instant Hannah walked through the pods onto the Grid she felt like she'd found home. The whole room was buzzing with energy, people wandering in and out with folders in their grip and having serious-looking conversations. Section K, which dealt mostly with illegal immigration, was busy, granted; but this was a whole other level. Hannah had never minded trawling through paperwork to find answers, but in Section K she felt as if she was spending all her time finding evidence to deport the helpless and estranged. Refugees flocked from all over Africa and the Middle East, from raging conflicts and torn warzones, and it was her job to send them back to the place they'd tried so hard to escape. As the crisis in Syria worsened her workload was only getting heavier. She knew it was vital – after all, the UK was bursting at the seams and couldn't take illegal increase on top of the legal – but something about the people's desperation deeply saddened her. At least half of the people she investigated travelled to the UK via a treacherous boat journey which ultimately ended in the loss of loved ones. These people were desperate and couldn't afford to access the UK through the proper channels, and Hannah had the job of making sure that journey counted for nothing and they were back in the Central African Republic or the DRC, often within the day.

In counter-terrorism, it was less about attacking the innocent who entered Britain through lack of alternatives. These people were dangerous, deluded and determined to cause chaos. The 7/7 bombings two years ago had shook everybody to the core. Now, she could save lives, not ruin them.

Harry Pearce greeted her immediately upon arrival, Jo entering in the pods just beside her. Hannah had met Harry on a number of occasions – the interview process had been extremely lengthy – but she liked the man, who was stern yet kindly in appearance. He shook her hand firmly with a smile.

"Hannah," Harry said, "Delighted to finally have you with us."

"Thank you!" Hannah replied, "I'm very happy to be here."

Harry liked Hannah's warmness and enthusiasm towards her job. He wondered, briefly, after the stress of Section D if it would last; he hoped it would. They'd had a lot of misery in their lives lately and he would appreciate one member of the team to have some remnants of optimism.

"I'll introduce you to the team. Jo Portman, as you know," Harry gestured towards Jo, who grinned in response. Hannah liked Jo a lot already. They were very much on the same level. He then took Hannah across to the main work station where he introduced both Zafar Younis and Malcolm Wynn-Jones, who both greeted her with a handshake. It was far across the room that he introduced Ros Myers and the section chief Adam Carter.

Ros barely flickered an eyelid from where she was monitoring a computer screen. She coldly, but politely, said it was a pleasure to meet her. Adam, on the other hand, was incredibly welcoming.

"I read about your missions in Syria and Pakistan," Hannah said, a little bit awestruck, which Adam immediately picked up on. "Very impressive."

Ros snorted. She didn't even try and mask it as a cough. Well, at least she was honest. That was a characteristic Hannah could appreciate.

"I was well-trained," Adam commented with a smirk, "And, welcome to the team. I'm sure you'll fit in well."

Hannah was about to reply but Harry cut the greetings short. "Okay, now we've got the pleasantries out the way. Meeting room in five. A source inputted something interesting on the secure line last night which I think you should all take a look at."

And so it began.

-x-

The blank board in the meeting room flashed with what appeared to be a map of central London, the kind Section D knew inside out. Hannah had trawled through these pathways day in day out, searching for evidence and searching for people. She pretty much had the whole A-Z in her brain. One location was pinpointed: an area of the opulent Kensington, famous with oligarchs and celebrities alike.

"Rumour has it in the Russian embassy that one of our favourite Soviet heroes is making a visit to the UK," Harry said as the screen zoomed in on a particular property, "Evgeny Vronsky apparently boarded a flight from Moscow to London early this morning."

"Vronsky?" Ros queried, eyebrows furrowed, "What does he want in the UK?"

"Clearly there is someone here that is a matter of interest to him," responded Harry, "And if he's a matter of interest to Vronsky, he's a matter of interest to us."

"Someone, or _something_ ," Adam interjected, "You know Vronsky can afford his own private army in Moscow. What if he's looking to upgrade? The European Nuclear Energy conference was barely a week ago – the timing is just too good."

"We tracked everybody at that conference," Ros reminded him, "Every member who sat on that panel – even down to their security, personal assistants, portable barber – is out of the UK, the Germans being the last to leave on Monday."

"Fine," Adam leaned forward, "But we had several representatives from here at that conference."

Harry silenced the argument that was beginning to break out between the two senior officers. "I think we're running before we can walk. The source only said that Vronsky was in London, but had no other information to offer. And whilst the potential for nuclear capability is possible, the main priority is finding out the exact reason why Vronsky is in the UK without speculation. We need hard evidence. Vronsky doesn't leave Moscow without good reason."

"We can't just monitor him," Adam said, "Vronsky is clever, as well as loaded. He has armed guards as well as high-tech security systems, particularly in his mansion in Kensington. We're going to have to go about this strategically and tactically and most importantly not get caught."

Hannah listened to the conversation, trying to keep up. She'd never heard of Vronsky and didn't want to ask, especially with Ros in the room. She didn't look in the mood for giving straight answers. Luckily, Jo managed to save her this time.

"How exactly is Vronsky a threat?" Jo questioned, clearly just as confused as Hannah, "Has he carried out a terror attack in the UK before?"

"Vronsky is a Russian billionaire – he made his money mainly in oil, which is why the Russians are eager to keep him sweet and on their side. What Vronsky wants Vronsky gets, and he uses this power to wipe out anyone he doesn't like with the equivalent of diplomatic immunity. He was ultimately responsible for the bomb blast in Chelyabinsk last year that killed two hundred people, solely to kill one foreign diplomat. The only reason Vronsky ever travels is to even a score or possibly to gain intel that can help him design an assassination. If he's in London, he either wants to meet someone with information or he's planning an attack that could kill hundreds of people." Adam elaborated. "He's not fussy on casualties. He can and will wipe out whole settlements to kill one person."

Zaf piped up for the first time in the conversation. "One hundred in Tehran in December. Thirty-six in Jakarta. Eighty in Sofia, including twenty-eight schoolchildren, just last month. Each of these attacks had one person at the heart that Vronsky had taken a dislike to – obviously not formally leading back to him, but the Russians have given him an invisible cloak and a get-out-of-jail-free-card. He won't hesitate to murder innocent British civilians if he's got an agenda over here. It could be a catastrophe."

"That's why we need to monitor him closely," Harry stated, "If he's planning an attack, stop it. If he's on an armoury gathering mission, stop it. There's no way that Evgeny Vronsky is leaving the UK with any more information than what he started with."

"Is there any chance we can intercept his flight?" asked Jo, logistics on mind. Flights from Moscow regularly stopped over in Amsterdam or Frankfurt. There was still a chance they could get to him before he got to them.

Harry decidedly shook his head. "Vronsky only ever uses his own private jet, never public airlines. Malcolm is monitoring all possible airbases around London for Russian flyovers, but it will be too easy to get caught if we send a team there. We need to be discreet."

"Just for clarity, is Vronsky definitely coming here?" Ros checked, "The Russians aren't exactly our best friends and they seem pretty chummy with Vronsky. How reliable is your asset at the embassy? They're not distracting us whilst he wreaks havoc elsewhere?"

"His intelligence has always been extremely useful and accurate," Harry reassured, "I think we should definitely take it as a genuine threat to our national security." He looked pointedly at Adam. "We have a meeting with the Home Secretary in half an hour. Meanwhile, we need to get Vronsky on the radar as soon as his plane hits the runway."

Malcolm's thin, wiry frame poked around the door just as the meeting was about to conclude. Going by the eager look on his face, he had clearly found something of interest. "Traffic control just got back to me. A previously unscheduled flight from Domodedovo Airport is due to land in Biggin Hill in just under an hour. I think it is most likely to be Vronsky – there are no other private flights from Moscow to any other airport in the UK in the timeframe provided, unless he's relocated to Yekaterinburg."

"Decoy flight?" Ros threw in, "When the Romanians suspected him entering Bucharest from Henri Coanda last year, he sent another flight in its place. It could be that he's doing the same thing to us."

"This is the best intelligence we've got," shrugged Adam, "It might not be him, but we've got to take that chance."

"Adam's right," Harry agreed, "Jo, Zaf, get over there. Don't let anybody see you, but take some pictures of whoever is on that plane. If it's not Vronsky, they might be able to lead us to him."

Jo and Zaf both nodded, knowing better than to question Harry's orders. The two of them bolted out of the meeting room immediately in the search of surveillance equipment. Harry then turned his attention to the remaining operatives in the room: Ros and Hannah.

"Ros, I want you liaising with any and all foreign embassies based in London – particularly those who have been affected by Vronsky, Iran, Romania, Bulgaria etcetera. See what they have to say about his little excursion." Ros' talents would be played well in this area. "And Hannah… Listen to the chatter from GCHQ and the FSB, but make sure you don't leave any traces. If Adam and I aren't back and you find something let Ros know. There is no doubt that the Russians know about Vronsky. They pretend they won't, but they do."

Hannah nodded. She had a feeling that most of her time would be spent 'listening to chatter' – it's what they got all the newbies to do, ones they couldn't fully trust on their own yet. But she was eager to prove herself, and she was thankful enough for the job as it was.

The four colleagues then left the meeting room in order to challenge their respective tasks. Harry and Adam both exited the pods, leaving Ros in charge, in order to meet the Home Secretary. Hannah grabbed some headphones and sat down at her new desk, opposite Zaf's, ready to decipher some Russian codes.

"Before you start, you might need the translation software," Ros said nonchalantly, leaning over Hannah's desk. "Can be helpful when dealing with the Russians."

The way Ros said it came across as passive-aggressive, like she was purposely out to embarrass Hannah or make her feel uncomfortable. Ros Myers was someone everybody respected in the unit, but as Jo had mentioned earlier, she wasn't quick to trust. Respect wasn't deserved: it was _earned._ Instead, Hannah just smiled. "Oh, don't worry – I speak Russian. I can handle it without the translation."

For half a second, Ros looked mildly impressed. It quickly evolved into disinterest. "You speak Russian?"

"Yeah. Benefit of having a multi-cultural family, I guess," Hannah said, feeling the heat of her cheeks under Ros' glare. "I should be able to decipher with no problems."

"Good," Ros smiled tightly, "Well, if you have any problems you should go straight to Malcolm. He knows more about the technical side than anybody else here. In regards to intelligence, come straight to me. Otherwise, I'd appreciate if you left me alone. Distractions are not preferable."

Hannah didn't really know how to reply to that. Instead, she merely nodded, and Ros slinked away to the other side of the room. She was already scared of Ros: she was not a person to be on the wrong side and was undeniably a formidable presence in the team. This only made Hannah more eager to impress her, if anything. She grabbed her headphones, pressed them over her ears, and waded in deep and carefully in radio chatter.

-x-

Today wasn't Jo and Zaf's first time at Biggin Hill Airport. Popular particularly with foreign diplomats, royalty, and dodgy businessmen, they'd regularly hide in the bushes surrounding the few runways in the hope of snapping Saudi princes or Al-Qaeda funders. The Moscow flight was due at runway three and it was surprisingly easy to edge past security and CCTV to gain a position relatively near to where Vronsky would hopefully depart.

"How long now, Malcolm?" Jo asked through her coms device. Zaf was busy applying a lens to the Pentax camera they'd been authorised from surveillance. Whilst there were people gathering on the runway, there was no sign of a plane.

" _Not long now,_ " Malcolm replied, _"Just lie low and wait."_

Jo did as she was told and lay down in the long grass besides Zaf. Checking that the camera was working, Zaf zoomed in and snapped a few of the airport security officials that were beginning to flock.

"Recognise any of them?" Jo asked quietly. They were so close together that their thighs were touching, but the early spring wind was bitter and cold so they were numbed to the effects.

"Unfortunately not," Zaf chuckled, "No members of the Russian mafia, I'm afraid."

Jo nudged him out of annoyance, but there was half a grin on her face. "You know what I mean."

"Of course I do. It's just too easy to tease you, Portman."

Jo shook her head, holding in a laugh. "I'll work on it."

The sky was enveloped loudly in the noise of engines: the unmistakable sound of a small plane preparing to land. Zaf jumped into action, snapping the plane as it lowered itself from the sky and landed smoothly on the runway, pelting forwards for half a mile until it slowed to a gradual stop. It was another few minutes before the door of the plane opened and a row of steps was wheeled towards it, allowing the occupants to vacate safely. Jo scrambled round for some binoculars that were laid out in the grass in front of her. She knew exactly what she was looking for. Evgeny Vronsky was forty-two years of age, five foot eleven inches tall and thin as a rake. He had dark blonde hair swept over his forehead and a prominent, pointed bone structure. When Harry had shown everybody his photo this morning, it was not a face she could easily forget. There was something about his smirk, how happy he looked, that chilled her to the core.

The first few people who boarded out the plane were fairly innocuous looking – your average Russian muscle, completed with tuxedo and shiny haircut. Four, five, six exited the plane, and for a moment Jo genuinely believed they must have got the wrong plane and these guys were all businessmen attending a conference in London; surely nobody was paranoid enough to need all this muscle? As muscle number nine left, both Jo and Zaf were ready to give up – but then they saw him.

Evgeny Vronsky, holding the hand of a very young and very pretty girl. Zaf immediately snapped hundreds of photos in succession. He was definitely in the country and he was definitely planning something. Harry's asset was right.

"Vronsky has got off the plane," Jo whispered, "He's with a girl – she must be about twenty, twenty-one. About five foot eight-ish. Long red hair. Have any idea who that is?"

Malcolm replied instantly. " _That will be Georgiana Roussel. Vronsky picked her up at a political science dinner at Moscow State University in February, where she studied. Miss Roussel is the daughter of a very prominent and rich French businessman. He regularly travels out of Russia with a woman: his last visit, to Sofia, he went with an English girl. Rose Whitely-Smyth. She hasn't been seen since."_

"The woman is Vronsky's current – shall we say girlfriend?" Jo informed Zaf, "She's French. Rich background. Met at Moscow University where she studied political sciences."

In front of the plane, Vronsky leaned down and kissed Georgiana dramatically on the lips. The almost intimidatingly beautiful woman fell, giggling, into his arms. Zaf snorted a laugh. There was no way that this partnership was based on more than just beauty and money.

"I wonder if she'd be that willing to fall into his arms if she knew what happened to the last woman he travelled with," Jo murmured sadly. This girl was so young. She had a place at university. She was as good as lost, now. If what she'd heard about Vronsky was true, she doubted Georgiana Roussel would be alive by this time next year.

"I'm sure she'd put it conveniently to the back of her mind with a free trip to London," Zaf said cynically. He took one more photo before detaching the lens and putting the equipment back into the holdall. "Come on. We've seen enough. Malcolm will have a team in place by now. We need to get back to the Grid."

Jo agreed with her colleague and put the binoculars back into the bag alongside the camera. Zaf threw the holdall over his shoulder and, ducking down, the two agents ran as fast as they could through the long grass and back to the SUV Zaf had parked not half a mile away.


	3. Chapter 3

_**a/n: thanks again for the lovely reviews! here is the next installment, hope you enjoy.**_

 **CHAPTER THREE**

As soon as Jo, Zaf, Adam and Harry had returned, Harry called another meeting. Now, the situation was less about speculation. Vronsky was definitely in the country and he was definitely up to something that would have dire consequences.

"I briefed the Home Secretary on what we're dealing with, and he's not happy," Harry iterated, "He wants us to keep as close an eye on Vronsky as we can. Our relationship with the Russians is turbulent as it is. If a Russian citizen commits an atrocity on our soil or uses something gathered here in the UK to commit an atrocity elsewhere it could have disastrous repercussions across the globe."

"The Bulgarians are understandably tetchy about it," said Ros, who had just finished talking with their ambassador, Aurel Negrescu, about the situation. "It's only been a month since Vronsky staged the attack that killed their Russian ambassador in Sofia, as well as all those children. They want his bollocks in a vice even more than we do."

"As soon as we know exactly what he's doing they're free to have him," Adam interrupted, "But until then it's more important that he stays on radar but untampered with."

Just then, one of Zaf and Jo's surveillance images popped up on the screen. It was one where both Vronsky and Georgiana Roussel were emerging from the aircraft, hands interlocked and faces grinning. Harry then flicked through more images of the duo, taken whilst they were in private cars being driven round the city.

"Who's the girl?" Adam asked, intrigued. Many of the other members of the team wondered the same thing.

"Miss Georgiana Roussel," Harry said, flicking through a file in front of him. "Vronsky's latest object of his affections. She holds relatively no power personally, but her father is Michel Roussel, a major player in French diamond market; she has a lot of money to her name. Vronsky likes to have a travel companion when out of Moscow. He picked her up at a formal dinner last month."

"When he was in Sofia, his "companion" was an English girl, Rose Whitely-Smyth," Jo looked visibly uncomfortable with the term, "She didn't leave Bulgaria with Vronsky and hasn't been spotted in Sofia or any other parts of Bulgaria since. She did not fly out to Moscow or even back to London. She's just… disappeared, completely. If Vronsky, for some reason, had her killed – her body hasn't showed up, either."

"I'll get onto the Bulgarians with that," Ros noted, "Her parents or someone must have reported something."

"Yes, but right now she isn't our priority," said Harry. Jo, particularly, looked affronted. "We need to tackle the issue that's happening right now in this country. Whilst the disappearance of a young English woman, especially at the hands of Vronsky, disgusts me, we need to concentrate on what could happen to many other English men, women and children if Vronsky gets his way." Harry pointed to the screen. "And I think Georgiana Roussel could be our way in. Whilst I doubt Vronsky tells her many of his plans directly, she will have the most access to him on his little London vacation."

"Where are they staying?" Zaf asked, "He can't be staying in his Kensington mansion." He winked notably in Jo and Hannah's direction. "Unfortunately, there was a gas leak just this morning. The whole area has been cleared out."

By gas leak, Zaf obviously meant there was nothing wrong at all, but a bit of scare-mongering round that particular area managed to get most of the residents out, including Vronsky's security team. His London mansion had very heavy security and was hard to infiltrate. If he was redirected to a hotel, however…

"He's ordered the whole top floor of the Van der Waal in Chelsea," Adam said, "He has every hotel he stays in swept for bugs and a twenty-four hour security team, but we could work our way round that."

For the first time in the meeting, Harry Pearce directed his attentions at Hannah. She was so surprised that anyone wanted her to talk that it took her a few seconds to form coherent thought.

"Hannah. Anything on the news channels?"

"Oh, uh, just…" Hannah shuffled through the papers that she'd brought into the meeting with her. Ros looked visibly irritated by her apparent incompetence, causing Hannah's cheeks to flush a tinge red. When she finally found the papers she was looking for, everyone appeared to be staring expectantly. "Nothing much, but there was a moment on the FSB radio that was interesting. Someone said _Tifon prizemlilsya –_ Typhon has landed. Now in Greek mythology, Typhon is known as 'the father of monsters'; he's the creature that Gods have nightmares about. I thought that possibly Typhon was a codename for Vronsky, going by his past record."

"Father of monsters," Adam murmured. Yeah, that seemed correct. He thought briefly of the Bulgarians and the twenty-eight funerals with twenty-eight coffins for twenty-eight children and the unanimous pain felt across a nation. Vronsky was a monster alright.

"If – and this is an _if_ – Vronsky is Typhon," Ros took Hannah's information sceptically, "That means the Russians know that he's here and are not formally warning us about it. They know fine well the destruction Vronsky causes whenever he travels and they know the impact it could have on everyone. They are willing to facilitate the deaths of potentially hundreds of people for the sake of their oil agreements?"

Zaf snorted. "Doesn't surprise me."

"No, Zafar, it doesn't," Harry gave Zaf a stern look, "Which is why the Russians must not know anything about this. They clearly want him on their good side and may warn him about British intervention and the last thing we want is for him to go to underground."

"We need someone undercover in the Van der Waal," said Adam, "Someone who can ideally plant bugs in his room, monitor any and all correspondence he makes. We need someone who, without rousing suspicion, can get close to Georgiana Roussel. She's only a kid – I bet she doesn't know what Vronsky is really like. If we earn her trust, we could probably turn her."

"We don't have _time_ to earn her trust," said Ros, "The Bulgarians said he was in Sofia for five days and left the country eight hours before the bomb exploded. By the time we've cosied up to her enough to be an asset Vronsky will be long gone and London will be mourning the loss of _our_ children."

Ros had a point, Adam knew that as much. She always had to be so right all the time. It was actually quite annoying. "Fine. We're just going to have to speed the process up a bit. All I know is, right now, we're using up precious time that could be spent finding out who Vronsky's intended contacts are. I still think that his trip coinciding with the nuclear conference is too big to ignore."

"That is obviously something we need to consider," Harry raised an eyebrow at the section chief, "But we'll get a much clearer picture once we have someone in the Van der Waal. We've liaised with the hotel, who weren't all too pleased that three members of their staff have suddenly become indisposed, but such is the nature of life. They were more than happy to accept our replacement staff."

The team looked amongst each other. Who was selected to go undercover?

"Vronsky isn't due to check in at the hotel until six pm this evening – we believe he is visiting some business contacts across the city, mainly those involved in oil," Harry elaborated, "But he has ordered, should we say, some personal assistance, to occupy Miss Roussel whilst he deals with the business he doesn't want her to know about." Harry chucked a file in Ros's direction. "Your legend, Ms Louisa Wright."

Ros quickly flicked through the folder. It contained a new passport, identification papers, credit cards, bank statements, _house keys…_ This wasn't just an undercover operation. This was the kind of op which separated her from everyone, the team, for a number of days at a time. "I'm staying in a safe-house?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly, "Your legend needs to be solid, Ros. That means a new address, new colleagues, and a new life – until he's completely neutralised. Trust me when I say he'll know otherwise. Malcolm will run through call signs and meeting points with you. Ros, I need you to get as close to Georgiana as possible. I think, if you bring up Vronsky's other female conquests, she may just turn for us."

Ros had no doubts that she could turn the girl. She could play a pretty convincing member of a hotel PR team; it was a part she'd played many times before. She knew exactly what she was doing. But there was something about Vronsky and his paranoia that frightened even her.

Adam could sense Ros's discomfort, even if she wasn't outwardly showing it. He wasn't sure about the idea himself. "Harry… Vronsky is dangerous. Separating Ros…"

"Is the safest way possible," Harry finished, "And we know he will only be in the country for a week tops. I need someone I know can work quickly and competently, and knows exactly what to do in the event of trouble. I can trust Ros to do that."

"Of course you can," Ros gave Adam a look that suggested _you shouldn't doubt me._ "I'll get over to the hotel as soon as I can."

"Good," Harry responded. The two other files he had on the table he chucked to Zaf and Jo. "And I'm afraid you two are housekeeping. Not too glamorous but you can get by mostly unnoticed."

Jo glanced over at Zaf before peeling open her own folder. Inside, similar to Ros, was a whole new identity set out in front of her, house keys and all. A quick peek over at Zaf's legend revealed that their aliases had a much closer relationship than she originally anticipated. "Oh – we're married?"

Zaf chuckled. "I knew you'd give in to me sooner or later."

Jo flushed a little but ignored Zaf's inability to use humour appropriately. "But – if we're just housekeeping, why do we need this detailed a backstory? Surely we'll just be in and out?"

"Vronsky is compulsively meticulous," Adam said, "He'll have all members of staff rigorously checked, even the cleaners, just to be safe. With the legend you should be safe and he'll pay no attention to you, but it's not worth the risk not to." Adam smirked. "Plus, if you're married, you can share the same safe-house. Saves taxpayers money on electricity."

"Oh, so it's a sham marriage then," Zaf shook his head good-naturedly, "All for the sake of money. That's why this country has such a high divorce rate."

Hannah felt a little left out of the group banter, and it seemed like Adam and Harry had left her out when giving out jobs. She understood why they would send more experienced officers undercover, but she felt a bit like she was in the meeting for no reason. She _was_ trained for this exact kind of operation. She would know what she was doing, but she had no opportunity to prove it.

"Hannah, you'll be in the surveillance truck with Malcolm," Adam turned to the newest member of the team, "Whilst Ros, Jo and Zaf are all undercover it will be important to have someone watching them at all times."

The way Ros glanced over at her made Hannah feel like she didn't completely trust her to keep her safe whilst on this mission. Hannah had no doubts that Ros could handle her own, but it made her feel uneasy and like she shouldn't be there. Was it just Hannah's own paranoia?

"What will you be doing?" Ros directed a question at Adam.

Adam smiled. "I'll be on the outside and your meeting point. Any intelligence goes straight to me."

"I don't need to tell you all that with Vronsky, time really is of the essence," Harry cut short the exchange, "So if you would all be so kind…"

The team took that as their cue to start the mission. _Operation Typhon_ was officially beginning.

-x-

Louisa Wright wasn't unfamiliar to Ros. Whilst the name was new, her way-of-life was the same to many aliases Ros had had before. She had worked in the PR department in many hotels across London – usually in five star luxury – and it was her job to make sure her guests had the most fulfilling trip in London as possible. Louisa had been borrowed from Claridges to the Van der Waal at the discretion of the hotel in order to satisfy a very wealthy client. That very wealthy client was of course Evgeny Vronsky. Vronsky had wanted someone to occupy his companion on his trip whilst he "attended to other matters." Being close to Georgiana Roussel allowed Ros to get as close to Vronsky without arousing suspicion: she would be around Georgiana most hours of the day, on shopping trips, spa treatments and sight-seeing visits. Maybe she'd manage to edge some interaction with Vronsky in there too; dinners and the like.

Louisa's flat was in the posh part of town – the part that Ros wouldn't be able to afford on the MI5 wage – and was fitted with expensive décor matching her job description in the case of unexpected visitors. She was to report back every morning at 9am and every evening at 9pm with the call sign _I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel my hair appointment._ If she was in trouble she'd change the call sign, and if she didn't report back dot on 9am or 9pm the team would immediately burn the operation and come look for her. If she had some information, she'd call a different number and ask to _meet up with Jamie for a coffee._ Jamie, of course, was her ex-boyfriend, if anyone asked, who looked a lot like Adam Carter.

The feeling of a palm on her back distracted Ros from memorising her legend. She smiled when she looked up and saw it was Adam.

"Hi," Adam murmured, "You alright?"

"'Course," Ros smiled tightly, "I've done this hundreds of times before."

"Yeah, I know… It's just dealing with Vronsky is not like dealing with the others. He killed twenty-eight schoolchildren and didn't even squirm. I'm worried about…"

"Don't be," Ros snapped sharper than she intended. She appreciated Adam's concern, she really did, but this in her mind was no different to any other operation. She'd came close to death on many other missions but it hadn't affected her and this one wouldn't either. She softened her voice. "Look – it's five days, undercover, at most. We need Vronsky and to get to Vronsky we need Georgiana. I know how to get to her. You're not getting this defensive over Zaf and Jo, are you?"

The way Adam's face hardened gave away the reason why Ros was different straightaway. His hands stood centimetres away from hers on the table. "Ros, we nearly _died._ Forgive me for not wanting that to happen again."

"It's not going to happen again, like it hasn't happened in all the other operations since," Ros stated. Adam wasn't usually this tetchy about sending her undercover – it was their jobs, their way of life, and both of them knew that inside out. Ros knew that the death of his wife just a few years prior must have affected his judgement, especially with how close they'd become… But it was no excuse for him to feel like sending her in with Vronsky would break her. It wouldn't. She hadn't before, and she wouldn't now.

Maybe they'd got too close. The first time they slept together, they were still shivering after being wrapped in tin foil outside the Thames barrier. Harry was fussing, Jo and Malcolm could barely look at them for the guilt of letting it happen and Zaf said nothing at all. In the end, they slipped away from the ambulance and to a safe-house Adam had the code for nearby. They took it in turns for the shower, but even after being pelted by hot water they were still chilled to the bone. They ended up seeking solace in bedsheets and warmth from the heat of his mouth covering hers.

Ros had woken up the next morning wondering if they'd made their biggest mistake yet. But then Adam smiled, and the sun was beating through the curtains, and the shivers had stopped radiating up and down her spine. She pulled his mouth closer to hers and he had obliged, his fingers combing through her hair.

Maybe all the subsequent times after that were mistakes too. Maybe pretty much moving in together was a critical error in judgement. Ros _never_ got effected by things like this; but she'd known from the moment she walked into his old flat wearing (accidentally) his dead wife's perfume and his kiss lingered on her lips a moment longer than necessary that it wouldn't be the last time they were both in that situation.

Her father had ingrained the mantra _love is a weakness_ into her minutes after she could comprehend what love was. Ros didn't think that what her dad felt for her was love, not really, apart from the enforced kind forged through bloodlines. But the kind she was feeling for Adam Carter Ros _knew_ was the kind her father warned her to stay away from.

She just couldn't push him away yet. Call it selfish, obstinate, a refusal to recognise the inevitable – but Adam Carter was constancy in a crazy world that nobody but he could properly understand in the way she did.

"Just… be careful," Adam almost whispered, his voice lowered to a near inaudible level. "You don't need me to tell you how dangerous he is. I don't want you ending up on a one way flight to Moscow."

Ros almost wanted to kiss him, there and then, but the faces and voices floating round in the near vicinity put that right out of the question. People could guess, but they couldn't _know._ She let down her guard for a moment. The part of this icy façade she usually projected to everyone around her; the part that Adam Carter only saw. "I'll be careful. Besides, we have a cast member from _High School Musical_ keeping an eye on me. What could go wrong?"

Adam's brows creased for a moment in confusion until he realised Ros was looking across the room at Hannah. The new recruit was talking animatedly to Malcolm, using lots of hand gestures and big facial expressions. Just looking at her made Ros feel exhausted.

"What, Hannah?" Adam laughed, noticing Ros's distinctly annoyed expression, "Oh, give her a chance. She works hard and she speaks seven languages. She's just not broken in properly yet."

"Christ, Adam, she makes a _Blue Peter_ presenter look like a manic depressive," Ros muttered, "How is she going to cope in the field? Go on, look at her – do you really think she could knock someone out? Or _shoot_ someone?"

Adam had to admit Hannah didn't look particularly strong, but neither did Ros physically. He didn't say that last part out loud, of course, because Ros could take the whole team down in a heartbeat. "Jo was like that once, remember? All Hannah needs is the opportunity to prove herself."

"Yeah, I'd just prefer it if that opportunity didn't include me and the world's deadliest oil baron."

The uneasy feeling of sending Ros undercover with him returned to Adam's stomach after that last remark. He did his best to push it back and trust her like he always had. "You're just going to have to trust her. I'll be watching, and so will Harry and Malcolm. You're not on your own." He didn't give Ros a chance to reply, instead shuffling through the papers that made up the identity of Louisa Wright. "You almost ready to go? Harry wants you at the hotel ASAP. The manager wants to run over a few rules, but you had an absolutely _glowing_ reference from your loving boss at Claridges. Seriously. The guy can't get enough of you."

"Well, I'm a hard worker," Ros smirked, hand inching closer to Adam's, "And _such_ a people-pleaser. What Louisa Wright's clients want, they get. I don't like hearing the word _no_ when it comes to their needs."

"You're a credit to your profession, Miss Wright," Adam grinned. It was then Adam's turn to almost overstep the boundaries, his lips inching closer and closer…

"Your taxi is waiting, Miss Wright," Malcolm poked his head round the door and the couple jumped apart, the technician completely oblivious to the moment he'd just intruded on. Ros nodded, gathering up her identity and shoving her new credit cards and driving licence into her purse, claiming she'd be there in a minute.

"Good luck," Adam shoved his hands in his pockets, "Also, I heard that Jamie wants to meet up with you for a coffee. You know, talk things over."

Ros smirked, pulling her handbag over her shoulder. "Tell him I'll give him a ring during the week."

She then swished out of the room with the mystique only Ros Myers could ever fully achieve, Adam unable to follow her expensive silk coattails.


	4. Chapter 4

_**a/n: thanks again for the lovely reviews! sorry you've had to wait longer for this chapter - the first three were pre-written. If anyone is curious, there are links to how I think both Hannah and Georgiana look in my head in my bio. Enjoy!**_

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

Hannah's first time in a Section D surveillance van wasn't that much different than over at Section K. She'd spent many a morning, afternoon, evening and night cramped in one of these things mainly over at Dover port with colleagues that bored her to near-death. This one was kitted out with cameras, audio equipment and computers and did not stink of coffee, which was a bonus. But with Hannah, Malcolm, Zaf, Jo and Adam all squashed in it there wasn't much room for manoeuvre.

"Vronsky is due in the hotel in less than thirty minutes," Adam iterated firmly to both Zaf and Jo. He passed a handful of minute cameras and listening devices over to Jo, who slipped them into the pocket of her Van der Waal apron. "Vronsky's own security team have finished their sweep so it should be safe for you to slip in and hide them on your housekeeping rounds. We'll be listening – any sign of trouble and you get out, not alluding to any of the bugs you've already managed to plant."

Jo listened carefully and nodded when she understood. "Got it."

"Zaf, use the camera in your watch to video anyone who goes anywhere near Vronsky's suite. Even hotel staff. If he needs someone inconspicuous to gather information for him it could be that he's paid someone here to do it."

Zaf looked quite dapper in his porter's uniform. He was wearing a dark blue suit jacket and trousers complete with a hat that fastened beneath his chin. He felt like a bit of an idiot, but Jo had always liked a man in uniform, apparently. He wasn't sure she meant _this_ sort of uniform. Jo, on the other hand, was wearing a white shirt, with a dark blue skirt and apron and a matching neck-scarf. Zaf nodded too, before gesturing towards Jo in the direction of the back of the van. The two operatives quickly exited what on the outside appeared to be an agency cleaner's van, in order to appear completely non-suspicious.

Adam turned his attention to the number of cameras that were displayed on the several screens surrounding the van. Malcolm had managed to hack into all the necessary CCTV networks so they had tabs on their operatives, as well as Vronsky, the whole time he was in the hotel or in the near vicinity. Hannah noticed Ros straightaway, in a near-identical uniform to Jo's but without the apron, in the vast foyer in the immediate entrance. She was chatting away to a man in a suit, more animated than Hannah had seen her all day. She could definitely play a part.

Adam saw Hannah watching. "That's Gregory Leeson – the hotel manager. He'll want to speak to Vronsky. I doubt he's had such a powerful client before."

"Does he have any idea what Vronsky is capable of?" Hannah asked; surely if he did know, he wouldn't want someone like that staying in his hotel?

"Not a clue," Adam said, "And I think it's best if it's kept that way. He just knows he's Russian and he's got a lot of money to spend. Keeping Vronsky here is the best place to keep an eye on him. We don't want to worry anyone."

" _Control – I've just entered the building_ ," Jo's familiar voice flooded Adam's earpiece. Zaf's report wasn't far behind. Adam looked around each of the cameras and saw both of them in the staff entrance, Jo departing with the other housekeeping staff and Zaf making his way down to reception.

"We can see you, alpha one and alpha two," Adam replied, "Alpha one, Typhon's suite is on floor six. He is due to arrive in less than twenty minutes."

" _On my way, control."_

At that moment Adam's mobile rung loudly, breaking the silence that had infiltrated the surveillance van. He snapped it open once he quickly read the caller ID. "Harry? Yeah, they're all in there. What? Yes. I'll be there as soon as I can." Adam's face was gaunt. "Apparently on Vronsky's rounds of the city he paid a visit to Henry Michalak."

Hannah had no clue who that was, but Malcolm knew straightaway. "He's the UK's leading nuclear scientist. He knows everything there is about nuclear energy and…"

"Nuclear weapons," Adam finished breathlessly, "This could be disastrous. Vronsky cannot get hold of any information relating to nuclear activity. The massacre in Sofia would just be the beginning."

"Surely Michalak won't give any information away, like that?" Hannah asked, "And does he even know anything? Being an expert on nuclear science doesn't mean you have access to missiles and plutonium. People study it at university!"

"Michalak helped design not only the nuclear power plants here in the UK but also our nuclear weapons programme," Adam elaborated, "He could easily design a blueprint for Vronsky if he was paid enough money, and Vronsky has the contacts to get the plutonium and the people to make it for him. Michalak knows how to make a nuclear suitcase bomb. If Vronsky has this information, he can and will tear apart the whole world for his gain."

"But why?" Hannah asked, exasperated, "I just don't understand what he gains from killing all these people! Picking off his rivals, maybe, but setting off a nuclear bomb to kill one target? It seems like a lot of money and a lot of consequences just to murder one person, when he's been doing it successfully with your run-of-the-mill suitcase bomb for years."

"He likes death and he likes destruction. Simple as that. Killing one rival is the main aim, but killing more people is like winning the bonus prize when it comes to Evgeny Vronsky. Michalak, by law, cannot give Vronsky any information. But Vronsky doesn't care much for the law, and he won't care to pressure Michalak into doing what he wants by hurting his family and offering him a lot of money for the trouble." Adam shoved his mobile in his jacket pocket. "I'm going back to the Grid. Hannah, you're control now."

Hannah blinked. "What? Me?"

Adam shook his head with a grin. "Yes, you. I don't see anyone else called Hannah in this van. You know what to do. Call if anything comes up."

Adam vanished out of the back of the van without as much as a goodbye – Hannah watched him flee through the rear camera as he looked both ways before crossing the road.

"I'll patch you in to Zaf and Jo's coms," Malcolm said, before smiling slightly, "Control."

Hannah eagerly pressed the coms headset Adam had thrown at her in her ear. It quickly crackled into action. "Alpha one and alpha two, this is control. Typhon is due to arrive in fifteen minutes."

-x-

The CCTV on the sixth floor of the hotel revealed that Jo had arrived safely and with no hitches. The only problem was that there was no CCTV inside any of the rooms at the Van der Waal, so Jo had to hide cameras across the suite in order to spy on Vronsky and his companion. Hannah and Malcolm watched in trepidation as Jo approached the entrance to Vronsky's suite.

" _About to enter Typhon's suite_ ," Jo informed control, but as soon as she pressed open the door Hannah's coms crackled and sputtered. Malcolm's brow furrowed as he desperately tried to patch back in but nothing seemed to be working.

"Alpha one? Do you read, alpha one?" Hannah repeated, despite knowing it was futile. They'd lost Jo. "Alpha one? Report, alpha one."

Malcolm threw his arms up in annoyed surrender. "Vronsky must have a jammer in place. We can't contact Jo until she's out of that room – her mobile phone won't even work."

Hannah sighed in desperation. This was the last thing they needed. Vronsky was more prepared that they'd all originally anticipated. "Won't that render all the bugs useless?"

"Not the cameras, it shouldn't," said Malcolm, "I developed the technology myself. They're built to go undetected by jamming devices. With the audio bugs, however…" He grimaced, jaw tightening, "I doubt they will be that useful. On the bright side, we know that it is impossible for Vronsky or any of his associates to make calls from within that room. We will know who he's speaking to."

Hannah shook her head. "We've got no way of warning Jo if Vronsky comes home early. She could be clambering across his fireplace. If he catches her with the bugs the operation will be completely blown before it's begun."

"Trust Jo," Malcolm said calmly, "She knows what to do, like you would I'm sure if the situations were reversed." He smiled softly at the team's newest recruit. Hannah was excited and eager to be involved in the operation, but he could see her hands shaking slightly on the desk. "First operations are always going to be nerve-wracking, Hannah. Sometime I still get nervous and I've been working here for _years._ Just trust your instincts and trust those around you. Eventually, it will become second nature."

Malcolm's kind words were enough to calm some of Hannah's anxieties. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, the sick feeling in her stomach beginning to dissipate. _I can do this._ Harry Pearce had trusted she would make a good addition to the team. She just had to trust herself, too.

A tinny noise of Malcolm scrambling around underneath the panel caught Hannah's attention, him quickly arising again with a silver flask in his grip. "Cup of tea? I always find it calms the nerves."

"Malcolm, if we weren't going to be stuck in this van for hours, risking potential awkwardness, I would kiss you right now," Hannah teased, earning a hearty laugh from her colleague. She accepted the steaming hot cup of Earl Grey graciously. "Thank you."

"No problem. I always bring a couple of flasks with me on these sorts of operations. It can be a long haul."

"I'll know for next time," Hannah sipped at the tea before turning back to the cameras displayed across the wall. Jo hadn't yet connected the cameras – Malcolm had set up a link that would activate as soon as the bugs were in place – but there was no sign of Vronsky. Ros was still stood with Leeson – the woman could talk if it was for a reason, apparently – and Zaf was stood smartly waiting for Vronsky's luggage to arrive.

"Alpha two," said Hannah, "Typhon has a jamming device in his room. Alpha one is cut off. Coms are down. If Typhon enters, be prepared to cause a distraction if necessary."

It was barely a second before Zaf responded. _"Gotcha."_

Hannah immediately turned her glare back to the CCTV camera, Jo's face clearly in vision as she attached a camera to what seemed to be a mirror in Typhon's suite. Hannah could see by the way Jo's lips were moving that she was only now discovering that the coms were down – she waved warily, hoping that both Hannah and Malcolm could see her, if not hear her, otherwise the operation would be useless.

Hannah had never been inside the Van der Waal hotel before, or any other luxury hotel in London, but even the image she'd conjured up in her head of Vronsky's suite wasn't lavish enough. Even through the relatively small camera of Jo's first bug, every piece of furniture oozed opulence. In the central communal area, it was covered in silk chaise-longues and arm chairs and huge, sweeping drapes. It was like the stately homes she'd wandered through on school trips as a child – places she'd never pictured people actually living in but museum pieces, too expensive (and uncomfortable) to be used, but so beautiful. Jo's face again flooded the screen from a bug placed on a dresser in the bedroom; a huge, king-sized bed, a window-seat that observed the amazing London skyline, vases overflowing with fresh roses and lilies. The life of the rich was an existence Hannah could never lead; only quietly observe from the inside of surveillance vans. She could tell why Georgiana Roussel was attracted to this lifestyle.

But even all the luxuries in the world wouldn't convince Hannah to cosy up to Evgeny Vronsky.

" _Control, Typhon and Echidna have entered the building."_

Echidna was the name Hannah had offered up as a codename for Georgiana Roussel – whilst a young French girl, believed to be completely naïve and oblivious to her "boyfriend's" exploits, hardly justified the title "mother of monsters", the team had adapted it into their call signs.

"Offer to take his bags, alpha two," Hannah murmured, "Then at least you'll get to the room first in order to warn alpha one."

Hannah and Malcolm watched the screens intently. Evgeny Vronsky wasn't half as scary in person as what Hannah had expected. He warmly shook Ros and Leese's hands the moment he entered, vivaciously introducing Georgiana. Then again, most genocidal maniacs didn't look like genocidal maniacs on the surface. She heard Zaf offer to take his luggage – but Vronsky was adamant that his own security would be responsible for his belongings.

"Don't worry," Malcolm said as he saw Hannah's muscles tense, "Jo has almost finished with the bugs. She'll be out of that suite before any of his men get there."

But as Hannah watched Jo struggling to fit a camera into a lampshade, she wasn't quite sure whether Malcolm was right.

-x-

This was the last bug. Only a few more seconds and Jo would be out of there, not risking any association with Evgeny Vronsky. She'd realised that the coms had gone down the moment she entered the room, but she'd had to take her initiative and plant the bugs anyway. Jo was unsure on whether they'd work properly, due to what she could only assume was a jammer, but Malcolm was extremely good with technology. He'd work it out.

The only problem was, Jo no longer had any interaction with Hannah back in control. Evgeny Vronsky could arrive early, or they may be a hold-up at reception – she had no idea when she was safe to leave or if she was going to get caught. But the operation took precedent. These bugs were important, so she was going to cut it as fine as she could in order to succeed.

Jo thought she was nearly finished until it got to a lampshade. The back of the camera had fallen off and she was struggling to clip it back together before attaching it to the elaborate bronze holder. If it was any other bug, she would have walked out of there: but this one was right by the door and would directly catch the face of any person who walked in. It was like a visual visitor's book.

Then she heard voices from outside the door. One she noticed straightaway as Ros's, the other an unfamiliar Russian accent. She'd assumed that it would be Vronsky's men who came up here first – she was wrong. Vronsky himself was coming up to his suite, and there was no way she could just sneak out now.

"Shit," she muttered quietly with herself, rushing to attach the lamp together without the bug. Vronsky was trained in the art of telling when someone was trying to set him up, and he'd know straightaway with the lamp in her hands. She had to improvise, pretend she was there on purpose courtesy of the hotel.

Jo scrambled across the room as the door clicked open and back to the housekeeping trolley. She desperately searched for something, anything, to help justify her presence in the room of a man who was a) meticulous about his own security and b) a deadly Russian murderer. In the end, an elegant gold vase of roses was her best bet. She didn't care that the thorns ended up cutting her wrists – she pretended that she'd brought them up as a last minute gesture, courtesy of the hotel housekeeping staff.

"This is your suite, Mr Vronsky," Jo could hear Ros's from the other room, "I do hope it reaches your expectations."

Ros stopped abruptly when she saw Jo still standing in the suite. Ever the professional, Ros didn't look surprised or slip character. Instead, she just shook her head, with a faint look of annoyance on her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry Mr Vronsky – I was led to believe that all the housekeeping staff had finished…"

Jo looked embarrassed as Vronsky studied her intently, his ice blue eyes surveying her petite figure. She was so different to the lovely Georgiana stood just next to him: her long red hair sat in neat waves across her shoulders, her willowy frame clearly the product of past ballet lessons and her face clear and symmetrical like a supermodel's. At first, she thought he was going to yell at her – she had no doubt Ros probably would – or something worse, because Vronsky did not treat people kindly. Instead, his lips twisted into a cruel sort of smile, that deep down made Jo want to retch.

"Not to worry," Vronsky almost purred, "What is your name, my dear?"

Jo laughed a little in order to appear more relaxed and in control, but it just sounded brittle and nervous. "I'm Gemma, sir. Please excuse me, the flowers came in late this evening."

Vronsky wandered towards the vase of blooms slowly, not taking his eyes off Jo. "They are beautiful flowers. What do you think, Georgiana? Beautiful, no?"

Georgiana even walked like a catwalk model, lightly and elegantly, like she was going to perform a pirouette at any given moment. "Ah, _oui._ Very beautiful. Thank you very much."

Jo nodded politely, but Ros replied. "We like the very best for our residents, Mr Vronsky. Any other desires, just ask me or any of the other housekeeping staff. We will be more than happy to help."

"In that case," Vronsky gestured lightly over to Jo's still form, "I'd like this one to bring me my coffee every morning. Eight o'clock precisely."

Jo hated the way Vronsky looked at her, but they had to keep him sweet. Even if he treated her like an object to be used at his discretion. Ros nodded decidedly. "Of course, sir. That can be arranged." Ros turned back to Jo. "I'm sure Mr Vronsky and Miss Roussel would appreciate it if you left, now."

Ah, Ros. Blunt as always. Jo didn't expect anything less, especially in character. She was thankful to go, quickly edging past Vronsky and his security with her trolley and out into the corridor. She didn't sigh with relief until she was safely nestled in the lift.

The coms stuttered back online. Hannah's voice quickly and clearly started speaking in her ear. _"Everything alright?"_

"Fine, control," Jo murmured. It had been such a close call. If Vronsky had caught her with that bug… "Just."


	5. Chapter 5

_**a/n: thank you again for the reviews. I'm finding writing this is very therapeutic especially seeing as I'm a nervous wreck waiting to see if I've got the grades to study English literature at my dream uni. hope you enjoy this next installment!**_

 **CHAPTER FIVE**

The staff canteen was nowhere near as luxurious as the suite she'd walked through just minutes before, but Jo found comfort in the slightly rusted kettle and the dripping tap in front of her. This was the kind of thing she could relate to – her childhood hadn't always been easy money-wise and her university halls were only grimmer, so she was used to a broken light in the microwave and mildew on the ceiling. The clients here were the important ones. The staff, not so much.

She'd retreated to the kitchen to clean up her torn hands thanks to her improvising technique. It wasn't anything serious – she'd had worse getting out of bed in the morning – but you didn't have to be an expert on medical history to know that cleaning wounds was safer than not. The cool water rushed across her palms, flushes of crimson collecting round the plughole. Whenever she glanced at the blood, Vronsky's hard expression and the rubble after the blast in Sofia harshly sprung to mind.

Jo was used to unsavoury characters gracing their presence in her life. It was unavoidable. But everything about Evgeny Vronsky repulsed her, more than the brainwashed kids sent on martyr missions with bombs in their rucksacks and the man who called her a _little bitch_ whilst his hands knotted round her throat. She shuddered at the memory: sometimes she really wondered why she allowed herself to be part of this industry. Being a constantly skint journalist was a bit demoralising, but at least she didn't have to smile at the man who didn't even flinch when killing children.

"Jo. _Jo._ Jo, stop – "

The voice quickly heaved her out of her trance, realising she'd been intently scrubbing her hands until they were raw with the kitchen scourer. A pair of hands snaked round her, removing the implement from her grip and placing it on the draining board. She inwardly cursed when she saw the state her palms were now in. The scrubbing had only made them worse, red froth forming in the bottom of the sink. That's how Evgeny Vronsky made her feel.

"Barely even an hour into manual labour and you manage to do this," the voice, of course, was Zaf's. Jo idly wondered if Hannah had sent him to check up on her. He reached out, taking her palms in his own, and she let him examine the damage she'd exerted mostly on herself. "Where'd you get these scratches from?"

"My poor improvisational technique," she shook her head at Zaf's concern, "Vronsky came in with Ros before I'd finished. I had to think on my feet."

"And you thought you'd resolve the issue by virtually sandpapering your skin off?"

Jo rolled her eyes. "I got distracted."

"Yeah. I heard the presence of Evgeny Vronsky can do that to people," Zaf replied sympathetically. Jo was still relatively new to the team as well as the service. He could understand why she still got affected by things like this. He fumbled round the kitchen, clattering in and out of cupboards to Jo's confusion, until he produced a dark green first-aid box. Jo started shaking her head profusely.

"Honestly, Zaf, I'm fine – Jesus, Ros' death glare leaves more of a wound…"

"Don't be stupid," Zaf warned teasingly, unclipping the box and producing a small tube of antiseptic cream. "I'm your _husband._ I'm supposed to look after you."

Oh, _that._ She'd completely forgotten about that aspect of their legend, and she still failed to see its relevance to the operation. Ros, who was up-close and personal with Vronsky himself, yes, she could see the need for a safe-house and ultimate discretion. But cleaning staff? And even then – why did they need to be married?

"Only in public," she argued limply, but Zaf's puppy-dog eyes ultimately allowed her to cave-in. She reluctantly lifted her hands in Zaf's direction, who gently squeezed some antiseptic onto cotton wool and dabbed at the oozing cuts forming threads of scarlet in her skin. Jo studied his calm, controlled expression and the intensity in which he carried out the simple task. There was definitely something admirable about Zaf. He was flirtatious and teasing, often on the other end of an apprehending glare from Harry – but he respected his job, his colleagues and the responsibilities that went with protecting the state. He'd be the kind, even under extreme pressure or duress, to never give any secrets away that harmed the service or the people who worked in it. You could trust Zafar Younis with your life. Jo figured that out just moments after she met him.

"So what's he like, then?" Zaf broke the silence, "Vronsky? Is he the big bad wolf everyone says he is?"

Jo audibly groaned. "God, he's awful. Genuinely awful. I don't know how Georgiana can stand being anywhere near him."

"I'm sure the fact that he's got a five-star yacht has got something to do with it."

"He could have a hundred five-star yachts, a ski chalet in the Alps and an unlimited credit card and it couldn't convince me to spend more than two minutes with him," Jo said vehemently. Zaf remained focused on first-aid (first-aid she could have done herself, really) and she followed his gaze back and forth. "He's… _requested_ that I bring him his coffee every morning. Me specifically."

Zaf paused for half a second, a look of something flashing across his dark features. "Be careful. Adam didn't want either of us to get too close."

"Trust me, I'd rather not, but Ros was there and I couldn't very well say no. He may've suspected something. Anyway, it's just coffee. I'll be in and out." Jo smiled a little. "You found anything out, yet?"

Zaf sighed, throwing the bloodied cotton wool into a bin near the sink. His job was done, apart from a particularly harsh cut which he softly pulled a plaster round, between Jo's forefinger and thumb. "Nothing much to report. He refused to let me take his bags upstairs, highlighting his paranoia. He talked to Ros for a while in the foyer then they left together. I suppose we'll be told if anyone goes near the suite."

Jo examined his handiwork. He'd done quite a good job, admittedly, but it was hardly brain surgery. "Yeah. Meanwhile, I've got a full roster of duties before I can clock off at eight." Zaf caught a twinkle in her bright blue eyes. "The glamour of espionage."

"Tell me about it. Being a convincing porter means that I actually have to carry suitcases. A lot of suitcases."

Jo smiled up at him and Zaf smiled back. She'd missed this. At work, they usually didn't have time to talk amongst themselves, but back when they used to share a flat together they could talk for hours, often way into the night. She could still see the moment they broke past all the boundaries in the back of her mind. His hand curving round the back of her neck, her fingers tousling jet black hair…

"Jo, I – " Zaf started softly, but a shuffle near the door broke the moment. A woman both Jo and Zaf knew as Jeanette, their duty manager, looked momentarily surprised at their presence but her dark eyebrows quickly furrowed into a scowl.

"I wondered where you two had got to," she snapped angrily, "We have a new guest arriving in ten minutes and you need to carry his bags." When they failed to move, Jeanette tutted loudly. "Come on! Move it!"

Zaf mouthed what Jo interpreted as _see you later_ as he followed Jeanette out, who was muttering fervently about the apparent incompetence of agency staff. As if the job wasn't bad enough. They were now taking on someone else's, too.

-x-

The excitement of Jo's unexpected appearance in the suite quickly passed and Ros settled down to business. According to the hotel's truly insufferable manager, a Mr Leeson, Vronsky had booked out the Van der Waal's luxury suite for five days, not including today's early evening arrival. That gave the team less than a week to find out just what Vronsky wanted, what he was doing, and when he was going to do it within the allotted timeframe. If previous incidents were anything to go by – further confirmed by her rather testy conversation with Negrescu hours earlier – Ros would assume that if an attack was going to take place Vronsky would be long gone before the consequences played out. He didn't like to stand and watch whilst a city burned, unless it was from the comfort of his luxury jet.

"I have booked you both in for dinner at the hotel restaurant at eight pm," Ros listed from a neatly drawn itinerary carefully planned by one of the junior analysts at Thames House. Herself, Vronsky and Georgiana were sat in the neatly placed lounge arrangement in the centre of the suite, much like the superfluous accommodation Ros was used to whilst shadowing her father on ambassadorial trips. She'd stayed in a lot of big houses full of big people in a lot of countries. The Van der Waal was nothing special. "I am sure you will find it incredibly satisfactory. The kitchen was recently awarded a Michelin star on our last inspection."

Vronsky hummed in approval. The Russian had requested _your English tea_ and he and Georgiana were sipping tentatively out of red china teacups. Whilst Vronsky seemed to knock it back like shots of early-morning espresso, Georgiana's expression was one Ros could only describe as quietly distasteful. She continued to drink, but the Frenchwoman clearly wasn't enjoying what some would call a British delicacy.

"Now, Mr Vronsky," Ros carefully closed the leather-bound diary, "I believe you require my assistance on occupying Miss Roussel whilst you attend to business?"

Vronsky seemed somewhat relieved to have an excuse to escape the planning. _He clearly has somewhere else to be._ "Ah, yes, Miss Wright." He patted his hand on Georgiana's bare knee, who smiled in response. Did she have any clue on what this monster was like, underneath the flattery and occasional displays of affection? "Georgiana… she does not want to traipse after me whilst in this magnificent city."

"Understandable," Ros pretended to agree, deliberately looking warmly in Georgiana's direction, "No need to worry ourselves over what the men do, am I correct, especially when there is so much shopping to be done?"

Vronsky laughed loudly in the way that the rich and powerful often do. Visions of dinner parties and muffled chatter behind closed study doors resurfaced in Ros's mind, but she quickly supressed the memories held within them. Why was she thinking about her father so much?

"You are correct, Miss Wright," He pressed a kiss to the silent Georgiana's cheek, who only closed her eyes in response. Their relationship was peculiar – one minute she was howling with laughter in his company, the next on the verge of falling into a coma. "I will see you in the restaurant, _moya lyubov."_

Georgiana vaguely nodded in his direction. Ros wondered if she'd gone into the toilet before to snort something: her glassy-eyed gaze was trademark coke user. She wasn't surprised. Ros would consider cocaine if she had to spend time in Vronsky's bed.

Once Vronsky left the suite, one of his several minders remained in the room, stood behind Georgiana's chaise longue so closely he might as well have been sitting on it with her. Ros rolled her eyes at the big, bulky Russian guy – she could hardly ask potentially invasive questions with him around, could she? "Do you mind giving us some privacy? Miss Roussel and I have a lot to discuss and I'm sure she'd feel more comfortable not under constant scrutiny."

The minder looked sceptical.

"Oh, come on. It's my job to keep clients such as your employer happy, and I'm sure he'll be delighted knowing that his lovely partner has had an enjoyable evening with me. We won't be long."

Bringing Vronsky's personal wishes into the equation made it a completely different matter entirely. The minder paused, nodded, then proceeded to wait outside in the corridor. _Well, that's one problem solved by my unmatchable charm._

"Finally," Ros said emphatically, re-opening her prepared agenda. Georgiana shifted in her seat only to cross and re-cross her legs. She truly was an intensely beautiful woman. Ros wasn't usually affected by beauty – as an attractive woman herself, she knew of its advantages, but it wasn't something she often noticed in other people – but Georgiana Roussel was radiant in a way that was immediately noticeable and definitely memorable. Maybe that's what first attracted Vronsky at that Moscow State Political Science dinner; the tall, elegant, young woman with the scarlet coloured hair sat alone at a table, sipping a flute of champagne. She'd be flattered by the attention, he'd take the opportunity to discuss the many ways in which he could satisfy her (purely monetarily, Ros presumed, because the guy didn't look the type to be that good in bed). Before she knew it, Vronsky had caught her hook, line and sinker. And Vronsky wasn't the kind to ever release his valuable catch back into the wild.

"Your man is very tight on his security," Ros remarked, eyebrow raised, like she totally didn't know anything about Evgeny Vronsky and what he did behind the scenes. "Does it not bother you?"

Georgiana shrugged her shoulders. A perfectly manicured hand brushed a stray, red curl from her otherwise perfect complexion. "He is only trying to protect me."

 _Bloody hell. She actually trusts him._ "Understandable, I suppose. A beautiful girl like you… you must get a lot of attention, not all of it benign."

The flattery seemed to soften her up a bit. She reached forwards for the tea she didn't like and took another distasteful sip. "Sometimes."

Ros half-smiled. "If you don't like the tea, I could always get you something else." Well, she was French. They knew their alcoholic beverages. "Something stronger, perhaps?"

Georgiana looked tempted. "Yehv doesn't like it when I drink alone."

 _Well, he didn't mind you taking cocaine in the bathroom._ "You wouldn't be drinking alone. You'd be with me. Perks of this job – I can drink with the clients."

Not strictly true, but Georgiana didn't have to know that. She looked down at the remainders of the Earl Grey swilling round the bottom of her teacup, before hesitantly nodding her head. Ros noted that as a success – she'd already convinced her to go against something Vronsky usually disallowed, one step closer to earning her rushed trust and knowing Vronsky's game.

"Excellent," Ros smiled, "I'll phone room service and ask them to bring up a bottle of our finest champagne."

-x-

Hannah and Malcolm were requested back to Thames House at around ten pm, a couple of hours after Jo and Zaf's shift had ended and Ros had just left the Van der Waal for the night. Once they'd made sure that Ros wasn't being followed, Harry had ordered that the night-shift surveillance team took over observing Vronsky's actions during the late hours. After being holed up in the cramped van for several hours, this was a more than welcome release. The airy sterility of the Grid served a harsh contrast to the claustrophobic setting of the surveillance truck.

The meeting room was comparatively empty to this morning, when Ros, Zaf and Jo were sat alongside them. With all three officers now undercover Harry only had Adam, Hannah and Malcolm of the main team left to brief about today's events.

"Am I right in knowing that the audio bugs were unsuccessful?" Harry asked, knowing full well the answer. Malcolm turned a little crimson, obviously slightly embarrassed by that particular turn of events.

"Yes, there was an unforeseen jammer in place, probably ordered by Vronsky," said Malcolm, "But Jo managed to plant the cameras and they, fortunately, were successful."

"Good," Harry stated, but the way it was said suggested that it wasn't good _enough_. "Adam – any news from Ros?"

"She's requested a meet in half an hour," Adam replied, "I doubt she'll have that much to say yet. It's too soon."

"Forget _too soon._ We've got just over five days before Vronsky is completely out of our hands again. She needs to turn that girl."

"Yeah, but even Ros has her limits," Adam intervened, "Give her a chance. She'll do it."

Harry seemed to take Adam's word, swiftly moving away from the subject. "In addition to this, we have the Michalak problem. We all know the information this man holds and how Vronsky cannot get his hands on it. The last thing we need is a Russian renegade running around Europe exploding nuclear devices, because we know that Vronsky will not just sit tight with this information when we know he has it."

Hannah decided to use this moment to put across her point of view. "We'd have to meet him, but discreetly. It would be no use just going round to his house if Vronsky is as meticulous as we think he is – he's probably bugged the place out, or is watching it."

Adam clearly agreed with Hannah's thinking. "I'll get someone to do a leaflet round and meet him tomorrow afternoon. Chances are, they haven't discussed anything major already, and we know from telephone records that Michalak has not received any contact from Moscow before today. He'll be confused and cautious. We just need to let him know exactly what will happen if Vronsky gets hold of any of his intelligence."

Harry nodded, before looking at his watch. It had been another long day, and no-one was going to get paid for the overtime. They hardly ever did. "That's all we can do for today. I've got a breakfast briefing at the JIC, but we'll keep going on the surveillance and monitoring Ros, Jo and Zaf. Well done everybody."

Adam quickly exited the briefing room, grabbing his coat before he left through the pods to meet Ros. Malcolm wasn't far behind him, but he went directly towards the terminals and sat in front of his desk, clearly not leaving home for a while yet. In the end, it was just Hannah and Harry left. She smiled in goodbye, but Harry interrupted her exit.

"Hannah," he called out, the junior officer turning at the sound of her name, "I just wanted to say well done for today. First days can be tricky and you've been thrown in at the deep end with this operation."

Hannah flushed a little at the praise. She definitely wasn't expecting it. "Oh – thank you, Mr Pearce."

"Harry," Harry insisted, "Now go home. Eat. Get some rest. Because it'll only be ten times more chaotic tomorrow and you need to be ready for it."

Hannah didn't need to be told twice. She pulled on her jacket, said a quick goodbye to Malcolm, and headed towards the tube station.


End file.
